Amy Thomson: Through Alien Eyes

Ukatonen laughed with the bami. “It would be fun to surprise her. But I can’t work on myself alone.”

“I can monitor you while you do the deep work on yourself, en,” Moki said, his words as solemn as the glowing nighttime skin speech could be. “You have taught me well.”

“You have been a good student,” Ukatonen told him, “but are you willing to assume responsibility for my life?”

Moki’s skin darkened as he considered it. “If you think I am good enough, en.”

“Then we will start in the morning, after we’ve slept and eaten well.”

“Yes, en,” Moki replied. “And thank you.”

“Go to sleep now, little one. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Moki’s eyes slid closed, though Ukatonen could tell from the bami’s breathing that he was wrestling with the burden that Ukatonen had just laid on him. He reached over and let a couple of drops fall from his spurs onto the bami’s skin. Moki’s breathing slowed as the sleeping potion took effect.

Ukatonen lay awake a few minutes longer, thinking through what needed to be done. He looked over at Moki, his face illumined by the wash of light leaking in under the door. This link would demand all of the bami’s skill at allu-a. He hoped that Moki would not fail him.

Moki awoke to the realization that Ukatonen’s life would depend on his skill at allu-a today. Was he up to the task? He had monitored Ukatonen before, when he was doing deep work, but Ukatonen would be working on himself today, and that was always risky.

Ukatonen woke, and the two of them showered, luxuriating in the all-too-brief warmth and humidity. The humans had made the ship much more comfortable, but it was still too cold and dry.

Eerin knocked on the door as they were basking in the steam produced by the shower. They pulled on their clothes and went with her to breakfast.

“You’re eating a lot today. What’s up?” Eerin asked.

“I was showing Moki some linking techniques last night,” Ukatonen told her. “We were very hungry when we woke up this morning.”

Moki’s ears lifted at Ukatonen’s tale. The enkar glanced at him, and he lowered his ears and focused on finishing his breakfast.

Eerin nodded. “Next time you can get something to eat from the galley; there’s someone on duty all through the night.”

“Thank you,” Ukatonen said.

“Don and Jennifer want to discuss ways to improve your communication skills. Can you meet with us on Tuesday afternoon, after lunch?”

Ukatonen nodded. “Of course. We’ll be there.”

They finished their breakfast, and hurried to their cabin.

“I’d like to be speaking sound speech by that meeting,” Ukatonen said as they settled themselves on his bed.

“But en, that’s only three days from now! How can we learn to speak sound speech that quickly?”

“We only need to speak well enough to let them know that we are capable of using sound speech. But we must not waste time discussing this. We must begin now, and work well and swiftly.”

The enkar held out his hands and they linked.

Ukatonen’s presence surged into Moki. The enkar did a quick physical exam and then settled down to work. Mold’s windpipe tingled as Ukatonen began reshaping it. That done, Ukatonen moved on to alter Moki’s palate and thicken his tongue. When he was done, Ukatonen examined his work, and then broke the link.

“Try some sound speech,” Ukatonen suggested. “Think of how Eerin’s throat feels when she speaks.”

Moki concentrated, remembering the movements of Juna’s lips and tongue from the few times she had spoken during a link.

“Huuwoo! Hoo ah oo?” Moki said, his voice sounding buzzy and flat. He bit his tongue on the last syllable.

Moki shook his head. “It didn’t work,” he said in skin speech.

“It was almost recognizable. Keep trying. Eerin told me once that it can take years for a young human to learn to speak. You did very well for your first try.”

“Perhaps the computer knows something about how humans learn to talk,” Moki suggested.

Ukatonen hesitated. He disliked working with the computer. It seemed wrong that a nonliving machine should hold so much knowledge. But the computer was a human thing, and he needed to learn about it. And it would not be good for Moki to see his discomfort. He was an enkar, after all.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Ukatonen said, forcing his dislike out of his mind.

Moki woke the computer. After fifteen minutes of careful searching, he downloaded several useful articles. They picked their way through them, pausing often, and getting explanations from the computer. Then Moki began practicing phonemes, while Ukatonen coached him. By lunch time, Moki had learned to pronounce several consonants, and was able to differentiate between most of the vowels. His voice still sounded buzzy and flat.

“You’re doing well,” Ukatonen told him, as they got ready for lunch.

“Ah hobe zzo,” Moki replied aloud. “Izz harr.”

Ukatonen brushed his shoulder reassuringly. “I know, but you’re learning quickly.”

“I miss hunting,” Moki complained in skin speech, as they joined the queue of humans waiting for lunch. “The food is all right, but getting it is really boring. No wonder humans had to make so many different machines. They needed something to do with their time.”

A ripple of amusement coursed down Ukatonen’s back. “Perhaps, little one, but remember, one of those machines made that clothing you’re so proud of.”

Mold’s ears flattened against his head. “Yes, en,” he said, his words dark brown with embarrassment.

Ukatonen brushed his shoulder. “Learning to live with the humans is difficult. But this trip is about more than just being with your sitik. You are here to learn about your sitik’s people. Someday you will help the Tendu and the humans achieve harmony.”

“Yes, en,” Moki replied, his words a contrite shade of greyish brown. Inwardly he cringed at the responsibility that Ukatonen expected him to assume. He loved Eerin, and he wanted there to be harmony between humans and Tendu, but they were so different. How could such a thing be possible?

Eerin and Bruce waved them over as they emerged from the food line. Eerin was explaining the fine points of the life cycle of the gauware tree to Dr. Maass and Jennifer when the two Tendu joined them at the table.

Moki glanced up at Bruce, who was listening to the discussion. He looked bored. It was a small disharmony, but it troubled Moki, because he could not fix it. He touched Bruce on the shoulder.

“What is it, Moki?”

Moki spoke in small, private speech on his forearm, “Ukatonen and I need your help on something. It’s a secret, though. We want to surprise Eerin and the others when we meet with Don and Jennifer on Tuesday. Do you promise not to tell?”

“What is it?” Bruce asked.

“We want to speak like humans,” Moki told him, “but we need your help. Can you come to our cabin after lunch?”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll be there at two o’clock.”

He arrived with typical human promptness. This human habit of punctuality was certainly convenient when you didn’t have much time, Moki thought. Humans always seemed to be in a hurry. Perhaps it was because they didn’t live as long as the Tendu.

“What do you want me to do?” Bruce asked.

“We need to link with you,” Ukatonen told him. “I need to compare your vocal anatomy to Moki’s and see if I need to make any corrections.”

“I could get in trouble,” Bruce protested. “It’s against regs to link with you. I could be court-martialed and drummed out of the service.”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Ukatonen said. “We shouldn’t have asked this of you. Forgive us.”